


Hope

by Neverm0re



Category: Alice in Wonderland (1951)
Genre: Alice the Syfy miniseries, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, This is what happens when you can't sleep at 4am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 22:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverm0re/pseuds/Neverm0re
Summary: Sometimes you just want to run away from your life and into someone else's.





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> An old piece inspired by the Syfy mini series starring Andrew Lee Potts (the best and only Hatter. Don't even waste my time trying to convince me otherwise!)

As you open your front door your shoulders finally drop from around your ears and you breathe a sigh of relief. One of those days. Again. You could really use some pampering right about now, dinner waiting on the table would be nice ... But no, there’s no-one home, just a note on the door of the refrigerator, a variation on the theme of “don’t wait up.”  
Well. What to do with the evening then? You flick through the listings in the tv guide, but nothing sounds interesting. Repeats, reality tv, banal disease-of-the-week films, grim-faced documentaries cataloguing the breadth of human suffering. A dvd maybe? Your eyes stray to the one that sits on top of the pile, and straight away you hear the accusatory little voice in your head.  
“Not that one AGAIN? Come on, seriously. Get yourself a life, or something. You’re turning into a nutjob, you know that, right?”  
Sod off, voice of reason. Its been a shitty day and I deserve a treat.  
Cooking dinner for one sounds like too much trouble, so you settle for microwave popcorn. As you pick up the dvd to slide it into the player you thumb the familiar cover, feeling as always that spark of anger at the person who decided that the star’s name shouldn’t be on there, just because he’s not well-known in the almighty U.S. of A. As the opening credits roll you get the cushions arranged just the way you like them and curl up on the couch, popcorn at your elbow, dvd remote in hand so that you can pause at your favourite moments.  
*******************************  
You’re a fair way into the film now, adoring every second of it as always, silently mouthing the dialogue that you know by heart. One of your favourite bits is next. The two of them, alone for a moment in the woods, and she turns to him and asks what will happen to her if she gets stuck here? And he, coming closer, promises to look after her, his expression vulnerable and longing… a sweet moment of uncertainty before they lean towards one another…  
The dvd flickers, shudders, jams. Dammit! Have I really worn it out? Do I need to buy another copy? As you get up off the couch to retrieve the dvd a movement catches your eye. You look back up at the screen. Somehow it has moved on, jumped forward; she is no longer in view, just him, dark eyes looking straight at you, intense, searching. And then….  
…And then. A voice. A voice that makes you drop to your knees in front of the tv, shaking. A voice you’ve heard so many times on the screen that you can mimic the accent perfectly in your head.  
“You know, this is getting a bit boring. How many times have you watched this now? I think we’re ready for a change, yeah?”  
He…sees you. His mouth moves as he speaks, his head tilting to one side as he comes closer.  
It’s finally happened. You’re as mad as a box of frogs!  
“Honestly. I think we can come up with something original…between the two of us. What do you say?”

A hand. HIS hand. Reaching through the screen, and for a crazy moment all you can think of is The Ring and that oh-so-wrong little girl. Your own hand seems to be operating under remote control as it too reaches out, trembling and expecting to touch nothing but the proof of your madness.  
But instead there are fingers clasping your own, gently; warmth, and you can’t help but slide your fingers up to his wrist, feeling the tendons and bones and pulse.  
He’s still looking at you, amused but sympathetic too.  
“Sorry, I know this is a bit of a shock and all, but we don’t have long. Just this one chance. Come with me?” Now there’s a different look on his face. Loneliness, hope, wanting. He wants you.  
You blink as your life really does flash before your eyes, all in a heatbeat. Taking stock. What do you have to lose? A few friends, mostly online rather than real life people these days; they’ll wonder for a little while where you’ve gone, and then forget. A relationship of the very normal, everyday kind, full of compromises and practicalities, mediocrity and being together because it’s better than being alone. Quickly now, weigh that against this, this one chance. Remember when you were a kid, how you loved to read about witches and dragons, magical lands and journeys to the stars? People thought you’d grow out of it as you got older, but you never did. Head in the clouds for all of your life, always searching, waiting, praying for that glimpse of another world in the wardrobe or down the rabbit hole, anything to tell you that magic was real, that there was more than this, that there was hope; and every year getting a little sadder, a little more disillusioned, a little more lost.  
The voice in your head again. “It’s a no-brainer really, isn’t it?”  
You come back to yourself, struggle to find your voice. Nod.  
“Okay…um…just give me two minutes?”  
He nods back, lit up now by that smile, so brilliant it could outshine the sun. You’re captivated. Fortunately your autopilot is still on, and it gets you on your feet. No time. No time for a goodbye note, for changing into something more flattering, for packing a bag; gripped by a sense of urgency you rummage frantically in the wardrobe for a coat and a sensible pair of boots. You’re sure you must look a total mess, but you come back to the tv anyway, half-expecting to see a blank screen. He’s still there though, arms folded, leaning forward slightly to squint through the screen into the dim light of your room, watching you scurry about like all three of the blind mice.  
Wobbly-legged, you crouch in front of the tv again, trying not to look as scared as you feel.   
“Ready?” he says softly, takes your hand once more and steadies you as you climb through, waiting for some sensation of falling, for a science fiction wormhole-through-space transition. But all there is is a moment of vertigo and pixellated blurriness, followed by disbelief as your feet touch actual solid ground. As you straighten up he takes your other hand as well and looks you up and down, and you notice that his hands are shaking too.  
“You look…amazing.” Suddenly you are enveloped in a huge hug, and you hug him back as hard as you can. Each of you assuring yourselves that the other is real, feeling real flesh and taking in the scent of each other. Hatter smells like earth and musk and tealeaves. He sighs with relief and contentment, just as he did when Alice found him in the casino…  
Your stomach ties itself into a knot at the mere thought of that name and you pull away. You have to ask.  
“Wait…what about Alice?”  
“Alice?” he replies, and you feel his breath on your cheek.  
“Alice is around. Not here though, not in this time. You know all those people who say that in an infinite universe there’s room for everything to happen? Well, they’re right. And in this time, this place, you’re my Alice. I hope.”  
“But…but why me?”  
His hands move to your shoulders and he spins you gently. You’ve been too stunned to take any notice of where you are, but now you’re facing back the way you came. And oh, what a sight… A wall of television sets, stretching off to the horizon. Piled up one upon the other, with the modern flatscreens on the top and older, boxy CRT models further down. Some are even black and white, they’re that old, with proper wooden cases splintered and swollen with age. Some are blank. Some are dead, tubes and wires spilling out to rust on the bare ground, or screens smashed. But many more are lit up, casting a shifting, flickering, multi-coloured light. And in each of them a single person, staring at the screen from their side. For a moment you think that they’re all looking at you and you begin to shrink away; but then you notice the expressions on the faces of these millions of strangers and you realise that they’re all absorbed in their own visions, dreaming in front of their sets just as you have for so long.  
“We call this place the Wall of Souls” Hatter says from behind you, standing so close but not quite touching.  
“It just started to grow one day, when the first tv sets went on sale in your world I suppose. Some of us would come down here from time to time to see the wall growing, to watch the watchers. And not just people from Wonderland; we started to see other…people. From other stories, other worlds, other universes, all coming to this place. And every once in a while I’d see someone step up to one of the screens, and either they’d go through, or the watcher would step through and come here. And there was always such a feeling of pure joy, when that happened. It’d bring tears to your eyes, to see people so happy.”  
“There was lots of speculation and theorising about it. People started saying that there really was someone for everybody, a soul mate, if you just knew how to open the way between you. And that this new thing called television was making it easier.”  
“I started coming here more and more often, walking up and down the wall, searching for some clue to how to do it. And in that time someone on your side…saw me, or dreamed me, a version of me, and made that movie. But that Hatter isn’t me. That Hatter has his Alice, in his universe, and I hope they’re happy.  
“A few times, walking up and down the wall, I’d feel…something. Someone was watching that film and thinking about Hatter. But, I dunno, I guess it was another version of Hatter they were dreaming of.  
“Until, one day, I saw you. So many times you watched that film! Every time I could feel a connection growing stronger. After a while I could tell when you dreamed about me. I could feel what you were feeling, how happy you were every time you sat down to watch it and how unhappy you were in the rest of your life.  
“Eventually I left the city and came and made a camp here, so I would be here at the right moment. I’ve been waiting… a long time.”  
He turns you back towards him again, searching your face with a gaze so deep that you could fall into it and be lost forever.   
“So you see – you are my soul mate. At least…” his hands fall away from you to fiddle with the edge of his brown leather jacket and he looks down at his feet for a moment,  
“..At least, that’s what it feels like for me. I think I could make you happy. I want to make you smile.”  
Hatter looks up again from under long, dark lashes, and in that moment his soul is laid bare. You can see to the very heart of him and know that he is everything you ever prayed for, dreamt of, all of your life. He sees it all in your eyes too, and his face lights up with that happiness he spoke of as he entwines your fingers with his.  
He turns his gaze to the horizon, where distant mountains and giant chess pieces rise from the plains.  
“Shall we?” Hatter begins to lead you away, but as you leave you look over your shoulder to the Wall of Souls. So many faces, old and young, men and women, all searching, all longing just as you were. You send a fervent wish in their direction, that all of them, every single one, will find their way to their dreams. Then you turn away, and your Hatter leads you into the land that you always hoped was there, just a heartbeat away.


End file.
